


The Death of Cersei Lannister

by TeamGwenee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Scheming and Plotting, Tudor AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:28:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23546140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee
Summary: Continuation of The Golden Age. Based on the Amy Robsart case.The friendship between Queen Brienne and the Duke of the Westerlands has not gone unnoticed, much to Varys's consternation.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short story I made using outtakes from my original Golden Age draft. I will post another soon based on Mary, Queen of Scots.

The lords in her council room fidgeted and yawned, hot and damp with sweat beneath their fine robes. Each one resented their continued presence and longed to leave the dull council chamber to enjoy the lingering autumn sunshine, but Brienne had no intention of releasing them yet. 

“Mistress Tarly, has a judgement been reached on Doctor Pycelle?” Brienne asked Gilly Tarly gently. If there was a single person in the council rooms more ill at ease than the queen herself, it was Mistress Tarly. But Brienne had appointed her to help oversee her Lady’s Councils, and she had equal right to a place in the council rooms than and puffed up lordling. 

Groans of exasperation filled the chamber, for many lords felt such matters beneath their notice. The majority resented the laws implemented by Brienne in regard to their womenfolk and had little desire to participate in their execution. True, Brienne could very well have dealt with Doctor Pycelle’s crimes privately, but Brienne knew all too well her lords needed to be reminded of the penalties faced by those who would abuse their position as Doctor Pycelle had done. 

“We have, your Grace,” Mistress Tarly informed her. Being of humble birth, Gilly Tarly was still unsteady in her place amongst her fellow councillors. Still, her voice was loud and clear as she denounced the disgraced physician. “It is as we have feared. Many women both employed within the hospital, and patients also, have reported the doctor making most unwanted and persistent advances, with several having been threatened into silence.” 

“How severe are these advances?” Sir Varys inquired. 

“He has seen fit to pinch and squeeze many of the nurses, but more seriously is how he has treated his patients. It seems he has used his position most abominably, and has violated more than one of his patients,” Gilly admitted. 

Brienne grimaced. She had personally approved Doctor Pycelle’s appointment, having been brought in by his gentle and kindly nature. “He shall be stripped of his profession and brought henceforth to King’s Landing to be punished,” she announced. “Lord Stormlands, as Pycelle is stationed in your lands I know I can trust you to ensure that the hospital continues to function until a replacement can be found?” 

“it would be an honour, your Grace,” Davos assured her. 

“Your Grace, this is but a trifling matter,” Lord Crakehall said. “Surely such measures are not necessary.” 

Brienne stared at the impudent lord silently, allowing him a moment to squirm beneath the ice in her eyes. “Doctor Pycelle shall be brought henceforth to King’s Landing to be punished,” she repeated, “and to be made an example of.” She allowed her councillors a moment to take in her words, before nodding. “You are all dismissed.” 

~ 

“You did well with Doctor Pycelle.” 

Jaime was walking beside Brienne along the leaf trodden path, her ladies at a distance behind. The damp from the rain and sodden autumn leaves smelt fresh and the evening sun warmed the yellow locks of Brienne’s hair. 

“You do not think it too petty a matter to be talked of along with matters of state?” Brienne smiled wryly. 

“Not at all,” Jaime assured her. “Who better suited to be reminded of the consequences of violating those in in their care, then the most powerful men in the realm? Although I suggest you fuss over them a little these next few days and ease the wounds to their pride.” 

Brienne had come to the throne on a wave of popularity, and rather than wait to make any drastic changes as Sir Varys and the new Lord Stormlands had suggested, Brienne used the rejoicing at the return of the Septs and God’s woods to put in place several reforms. Hospitals, schools and lawyers for the smallfolk and merchant guilds and training in craft for women. But most contentious were her laws regarding the rights of husbands and fathers over their daughters. 

Many lords took umbrage over Brienne’s decree that a father had no ownership over his daughter’s maidenhead, and husbands were capable of rape. And they grew even more so when it became clear Brienne intended to uphold these laws. 

“I will,” Brienne promised Jaime. “I shall dine in public this evening and make a great fuss over them all.” 

“Excellent.” Jaime nodded approvingly. “Quite right your Grace,” he said with a formality instantly undermined by the knavish smile he shot her, “And then we will make a bid for freedom and go for a midnight gallop.” 

“A midnight gallop?” Brienne repeated. “That is rather short notice.” 

“It must be tonight.” Jaime grimaced. “I have news from Casterly. It seems Cersei has driven away yet another steward.” 

Brienne had invited Lady Stormlands to court, but the beautiful young woman had once expected to be a queen and resented curtseying to the graceless ‘cow’ who had usurped both her throne and place in Jaime’s affections and it was a relief to all of King’s Landing when she returned to the Westerlands, where she tormented the citizens of Casterly Rock. 

“You have to travel West?” Brienne sighed, heart sinking at the thought of losing her closest friend. 

Jaime rested a hand upon her cheek. “I will come back to you soon, I promise.” 

Brienne’s cheek flamed beneath Jaime’s touch. Years may have passed since that heady night in the cells of King’s Landing, but his touch never failed to send her back. 

“I know.” Brienne smiled down at her childhood friend, before becoming increasingly aware of the ladies just steps behind, and quickly resumed her walk. 

~ 

Leaning over the brick walls of the Red Keep, watching the young couple, Varys turned to Lord Tyrion and smiled pleasantly. 

“I trust you know I respect your brother greatly,” Varys began to say delicately. 

“You are one a few,” Tyrion said bitterly. “Most members of the Privy Council still think of our family as upstarts.” 

“Well, I do respect him. And I am fond you my lord, but I cannot deny being grateful that your sister is such a thorn in your sides that Lord Westerlands is once more leaving us, if even for a time,” he confided in Tyrion. 

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. “You are grateful that out sister is a bitch and my brother is being forced from your company? That does not sound as though you are fond of us.” 

“Do not doubt, I am well aware of how indispensable your brother is to the queen, and I am most grateful for the support he brings her. But I do fear for what could happen if he becomes too indispensable to her Grace,” Varys admitted. 

“By which I mean, if she choses to wed him?” Tyrion hazarded. 

“Your brother’s to her Majesty closeness has not gone unnoticed,” Sir Varys informed him. “And I have heard whispers-” 

“Of course.” Tyrion rolled his eyes. 

“Questioning why her Grace would put in laws to protect harlots and wanton women, unless she herself has fallen into debauchery. It is not an uncommon view that the good duke has debased the queen.” Varys turned to Tyrion. “And many have become convinced that having succumbed to her womanly weaknesses, it is only a matter of time before she bends her will to him entirely and makes him king.” 

Tyrion let out a cackle of laughter. “Bends her will to him?” he repeated. “Have they met the woman?” 

“It is what they think,” Varys insisted. “And that is enough in itself to threaten the queen’s position. Can you swear to me that there is no chance of marriage between the two?” 

Tyrion shrugged uneasily. “There deep feelings between the two, I cannot deny. There was a night in Dragonstone, but I have no reason to think anything has happened since. And even if it does, there is no certainty they will wed.” 

“But there is no certainty they will not,” Varys sighed. “And kingdoms cannot be built on uncertainty. I truly believe in the queen’s reforms, but if they are to endure, she cannot risk losing the lords’ trust and alienating them more than she already has. They need certainty that the queen is not will bow to Lord Westerlands’ desires and make him king.” 

“Why not remind them of my sweet sister?” Tyrion asked dryly. “As long as she lives to bring mayhem to the Westerlands, Jaime will not be in King’s Landing long enough to be crowned.” He patted Varys’s arm and left the queen’s most skilled councillor pondering Tyrion’s words. 

“How true you are, my lord,” Varys murmured. “How true you are.”


	2. Chapter 2

2

She had sent her people to the fair. It was a rare occurence the Dowager Duchess would permit her servants to prioritise frivolity over duty, and if any one of them thought the decision somewhat suspect, they all knew better than to question this stroke of kindness, rare as it was.

She clutched the crumpled parchment in her fist, waiting by the designated window. She had foreborn her usual morning glasses of wine, allowing herself just one to steady her nerves. 

Cersei smiled as she watched from the window, waiting for the rider to arrive. Long she had watched and waited as that shambling beast threw away the goodwill of her lords cuddling up to the unwashed masses. The people Cersei should have been queen of. A queen of beauty and poise and strength, able to put the peasants and lords in their place instead of futilely trying to appease all. Degrading herself and her sacred person.

This letter from Sir Varys, once her Grace’s most devoted servant, showed Cersei that her patience was soon to be rewarded. She wondered which lord Sir Varys had chosen to be her king. One of the Baratheon cousins perhaps? She believed the Swann’s had a great-grandfather of Baratheon blood. Little did it matter, if Sir Varys’s letter was to be believed. It seemed all the realm was frothing at the bit to see the Tarth bitch cast down.   
An ugly, unnatural creature, thrown down. And in her place, Cersei; beautiful, golden Cersei would rise. 

For this meeting alone, Cersei had dressed in shimmering ivory silk with raised silver embroidery of twisting vines and flowers. On the day of her coronation Cersei pictured herself all in cloth of gold, with ermine sleeves and silver tissue. A crown upon her brow, glinting in the sun. The people would stand in awe of her radiance, and would carry the memory of her beauty to their graves.

Cersei impulsively kissed the letter. Yes. Soon, within a year, within months, Queen Brienne would fall and Queen Cersei would fly.

So rapturous was she, she did not see the hooded stranger approach from behind, hands outstretched as he joined her atop the staircase. And as Cersei predicted, she flew. 

~  
“Dead?” Brienne asked numbly. “Truly dead?”

“I am afraid so, Your Grace,” Sir Varys said gravely. “The poor lady was found dead at the bottom of a staircase, her neck quite broken.”

The poor chambermaid who found had fainted in distress and had to be dosed with Milk of the Poppy to keep from screaming in the night.

“Has Jaime been made aware?” Brienne demanded, her thoughts immediately leaping to her oldest, dearest friend, who had loved his sister so ardently.

“The messenger caught up to him on the Kingsroad. He is resting at his House in Rosby, and we will be riding to Casterly Rock within the next four days.”

Brienne nodded and stood decisively, a pile of state papers fluttering from her large wooden desk at the abrupt movement. “I must go to him at once,” she informed Varys. “Have a horse and escort arranged at the earliest convenience.”

Varys bowed his head. “Naturally you wish to support your friend during this time and it does you credit. Your tender heart is an inspiration to us all.”

Brienne was in the mood to listen to Varys’s platitudes. “If you think there is any reason why I should not go to Jaime, tell me now. And please explain it as simply as possible as right now, I cannot fathom why I should not be by his side, and must be a simpleton for it.”

“Lord Westerlands is implicated in his sister’s death. It would take merely a coin and the favour of the future king to see the lady disposed of,” Sir Varys said baldly. “It is well known that the Dowager Lady Stormland’s constant need for attention has dragged him time and time again from court, and any ambitions he may have-”

“Jaime doesn’t have any ambitions,” Brienne interjected.

“But he is surrounded by ambitious men who will see his love for you only as a farce to gain power,” Varys pointed out. “And it will suit those men well for my Lord of Westerland’s reputation to be tarnished, and his influence to be stripped from you. With your favourite compromised, there will be a position as your chief advisor left empty.”

“Then I certainly must go to him!” Brienne declared, “And show to the world just how groundless I find these rumours to be.” 

“And in doing so, align yourself with a suspected murderer and put your reputation, your crown and your country at risk. Queen Sansa still insists she is the rightful queen, and she has the strength of the Vale and the North behind her. Keep your distance, wait until his name is cleared and prove to your council that you will always put the needs of the realm above your affection for my Lord of the Westerlands,” Varys insisted. “Your Grace, I will order an inquest. The results will prove my Lord of Westerlands’ innocence and then you can stand by his side and show yourself in full support of the findings. Until then, you must have my Lord Westerlands kept far from court.”

Brienne wished most heartily to strike a blow to Sir Varys’s cheek, call for a horse to be saddled and go straight to gather Jaime into her arms. Instead she took a breath, gritted her teeth and nodded.

“Announce a period of mourning for my Lady Stormlands,” she ordered him. “And begin the inquest. Send Lord Tyrion to his brother and instruct him to ensure he is to stay away from court.” Brienne pressed a hand to her forehead. “Tell my ladies I will have no need for them tonight. I sense a migraine approaching and I wish to rest.”

Sir Varys bowed. “As you wish, your Grace.” He hesitated at the door. “Your Grace, if information comes to light that would cast doubt over the good Duke’s conduct, should I presume to take the necessary measures needed to protect Lord Westerlands’ name?”

Brienne’s mouth went dry. She swallowed back her pleas that Sir Varys do everything to shield Jaime’s reputation, and only fixed him with a glower. “It won’t come to that,” she said coldly. “Of that I am certain.”

Brienne watched as Sir Varys soundlessly pattered down the corridor in silk slippers, before taking the hand of her forehead and having a page sent to fetch Lord Stormlands. 

Davos Seaworth may now be Duke of the Stormlands, but there was once a time he was a smuggler, and another time her gaoler. And Brienne remembered well how gently he had treated her as he escorted through the gates of Dragonstone, neither one sure if she would again know liberty, and had risked his own flesh to ensure she had the comfort of her closest friend.

If there was any man she could trust to see her safely to Jaime without notice, it was him.   
~

Brienne had long wondered how Jaime; for all his years, always managed to carry the air of a young boy. In his mischief, in his love of adventure, in his whole-hearted devotion to those he loved. 

And in his grief. He wept by the fireside, doubled over and rubbing his eyes with his knuckles like a lost little boy. That was where Brienne found him after Lord Tyrion safely saw her into the manor and discretely conducted her to Jaime’s chambers. 

“Jaime?” she whispered, before striding towards him and kneeling before his seat. She placed her hand on his knee. “Jaime.” 

Jaime looked up to see her there, shoulders slumping as he crumpled down into her arms. Brienne held him, murmuring soothingly into his ear as he choked and heaved.

“Found a way of slipping from Sir Varys then?” Jaime said hoarsely once he had recovered some semblance of composure. “Tyrion told me of my banishment.”

“It’s not a banishment,” Brienne insisted, “It’s just a-”

“What?” Jaime asked bitterly. “A precaution. Just in case I am found guilty of my sweet sister’s murder. Can’t have our good Queen’s light dimmed by the shadow of a murderer.”

“I am here now,” Brienne insisted. “It’s just the look of the thing I have to be careful of.”

“Of course, better to allow the realm to think the worst of me than risk standing in support of me and my innocence,” Jaime spat. “And so the cruelty of the crown claims even the truest of us.”

Brienne stiffened in his arms as though she had been slapped. “I will not apologise for putting the realm before my own needs, nor your own.”

Jaime laughed. “Of course not, ever the dutiful Brienne.” He pressed his lips against her forehead. “Apologies, your Grace, I will mind my tongue from here on.”

Brienne clutched his arm and forced him to meet her gaze. “I should be kinder,” Brienne said, taking his hands and kissing his knuckles. “Speak free if it comforts you.”  
Jaime slid from his seat and joined Brienne on the carpet, warming his numb heart with the kiss of the flames against his cheeks.

“Who helped you come here?” Jaime asked, resting his forehead against Brienne’s own.

“Davos,” Brienne mumbled.

“Sir Davos sneaking you into my chamber’s for an illicit meeting?” Jaime chuckled. “Now doesn’t that make me feel young,” he said, his voice cracked and shoulders bent beneath the weight of his years. “I will make sure to comfort him on my return, once my innocence is proven and all will be as it ever was between us.”

Brienne longed for nothing more than for that to be true, that this course of events and Brienne’s own choices had not altered things between them. She had chosen her crown and the peace above the needs of her dearest friend, and in the public’s eye had cast him out in the cold to deal with the vicious accusations thrown at him. Change was inevitable.

It was just a matter of waiting to find out how much.


End file.
